


Ready but Wrong

by Smushed



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Dark Sherlock, Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, agegap, dark themes, holmescest, how Sherlock began to resent Mycroft, mention of drug use, mylock, shercroft - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:39:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smushed/pseuds/Smushed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous: Can you do Holmescest with dark!Sherlock please?<br/>-- How Sherlock began to resent his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready but Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> ((Warning! Dubious consent, non-con elements, age gap, angst.))

 Sherlock (17) knew Mycroft (25) lusted for him, knew that his elder brother had wet dreams about him since Sherlock hit puberty. But he also knew that Mycroft would never, ever sleep with him. He knew that Mycroft would never take advantage of his little brother, would never jeopardise his chances of functioning in a normal society because of incestuous activities.

Some people call Sherlock a freak, but Mycroft feared that everyone would if he pursued it. So Mycroft, with a respectable amount of will and an ounce of suffering, restrained from pursuing all of his desires for Sherlock.

Sherlock, on the other hand, just wanted him. Regardless of any consequences, social taboos and any aftermath of their relationship. He wanted Mycroft selfishly. The teen had been researching and preparing himself, it was tedious, but Sherlock relished in what it would end with.

So he stretched himself over time whilst Mycroft was away, he knew his brother would be back this weekend. He knew he hadn't quite stretched to the extent he would need, but he wanted it to hurt. Sherlock discovered these things about himself the more he indulged in fantasising about his brother.

Mycroft came home, and only he noticed the very slight change in Sherlock. He craned down, kissed his head and ruffled his curls as he always did. A habit he couldn't drop from Sherlock being a child. Their mother and father had prepared dinner, to which Mycroft was grateful, having lost some weight on his diet and not having a chance to eat that day.

"You look good, Mycroft." Sherlock spoke between poking his food around his plate, to which the elder Holmes raised his brows and bowed his head slightly.

"Thank you, brother mine. As you do look healthy, have you been eating everyday?" Sherlock shrugged, he had in fact picked up his appetite in his locked door endeavours, he had gained something of a reasonable fitness level and that had induced his healthier appetite.

Mycroft silently noted the flash in Sherlock's eyes and continued with his food. After a glass of wine Mycroft sighed and resigned for the evening. He went to his room and the shower ensuite attached to it and had a long hot shower. It was the kind that proved rather difficult to pull from under the comforting hot spray.

It had been a long week, month, rather a long year of working hard and missing Sherlock and the comfort of his own bed. He stepped into his room, naked and still towel drying his hair when he saw Sherlock under his covers.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "You haven't done this in years, brother mine. I'm not sure it's a regular occurrence in boys of your age."

Mycroft pulled the corner of his duvet up, careful not to pull it off Sherlock so he could keep warm and lay down. He covered himself and pressed the duvet between them.

"I'm naked so I'd appreciate it if you were careful tonight."

"Oh, I will be careful." Sherlock flicked up the duvet and shuffled, Mycroft felt a naked thigh come over his waist and Sherlock's bare arse across his hips.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" It was the only time Sherlock had ever heard that tone, that unsure murmur, and it spurred him on.

"You know what I'm doing, Mycroft, you've dreamt of it a thousand times before, I know you have." Sherlock hummed, Mycroft shivered at how deep his voice had become.

"Stop it." He panted once.

"No. Why shouldn't I do this if it's something we both want?" He sighed, craning forwards and taking Mycroft's mouth with his own. Mycroft didn't kiss back, he tried to push him away, but Sherlock smothered his lips harder, holding Mycroft's face tightly, forcing his tongue to glide inside Mycroft's mouth who finally gave in and kissed back weakly.

Sherlock reached behind him and felt Mycroft hard already, and he moaned at the hard flesh beneath his fingers.

"No," he gasped. Sherlock shook his head and kissed Mycroft's neck as he reached under the duvet and found the lubricant. He popped open the cap and Mycroft fidgeted to get Sherlock off of him. Sherlock stiffened and looked at Mycroft gently.

"Are you going to push me away, big brother?" Sherlock's voice was stiff.

"What? Just get off, you're being irrational." He pushed Sherlock by the chest and went to push from underneath him.

"You're going to push me away again. Like you did when you went away and left me alone. You're all I have." Sherlock's voice went quiet, Mycroft stopped struggling and let his arms fall limp.

"I never pushed you, Sherlock... You know I wouldn't do that. You know how I feel about you." Mycroft sounded tired.

"Yes, which is why I'm doing this. It's what we need." Sherlock kissed the corner of Mycroft's mouth as he slicked the elder Holmes erection.

Sherlock raised himself using his knees as leverage, he lined Mycroft using the base of his cock and pressed he head against his already soaking hole. Mycroft's breathing was hesitant and then erratic.

"I love you, brother mine." Sherlock said so quietly, it was barely audible. He then sank down. Mycroft tossed his head back into the pillows, Sherlock sunk until he was sat on Mycroft's thighs and they stilled.

It was intense, heady and confusing but Mycroft's hands shot to Sherlock's hips and he stilled him.

"Christ," he gasped. "I'd love you incoherent, Mycroft." Sherlock panted, shifting and raising himself to sink back down again. Both of them cursed and tried to control their breathing, and without warning when Sherlock had sank down Mycroft flipped them over and held Sherlock tightly. He gripped Sherlock's arms and held them, cocooned Sherlock beneath him and Sherlock wrapped his legs around his brothers waist.

This was incredible, and they knew there was no turning back. Mycroft began to move his hips slowly and steadily, and Sherlock loved his arms being pinned above his head, the control Mycroft had over him, he moaned quietly, Mycroft shushed him with a deep kiss as he picked up the pace. He felt that Mycroft loved him.

Sherlock would never relinquish this moment. It burnt a hole into his soul and he swore that nothing would ever fill it. A space in his very being to be filled by Mycroft, both physically, mentally and emotionally. It was the one and only time Sherlock managed to have him. The sex they had was indescribable, the only way Sherlock could fathom that it happened was through the eyes of a needle.


End file.
